


eden animal hospital

by jupiterjazzpartii



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, minor animal injury in later chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterjazzpartii/pseuds/jupiterjazzpartii
Summary: Crowley doesn't need this cat. He doesn't need a crush on his cute vet, either.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 147
Kudos: 426
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. cat meets man. man meets angel.

**Author's Note:**

> here it is... the vet au literally no one asked for but i'm delivering anyway because i work at an animal hospital and can't get this concept out of my head!!  
> first chaptered work so be kind to me ... i think we're looking at about six chapters so far!
> 
> thank you to diego and gecko who not only read through the outline and this to tell me if it's completely idiotic, but also tolerated me talking about cat butts. cheers x

Anthony J. Crowley is a simple man. He has his shop, a flower and plant nursery he decided to call _Once and Floral_ during a night of drinking. He’s got his snake, a mojave ball python named Crawley whom he loves dearly (and yes, he did name her after himself). He goes to work during the day, terrifies his plants and sometimes even _sells them_ , then lounges with Crawley at home binging mediocre shows on Netflix and drinking equally mediocre wine. What more could a middle-aged man want?

Well. To be fair, there’s a bit more to him than that. Crowley is known as a stubborn arsehole who attempts to cultivate a _cooler-than-you_ look and attitude through sleek fashion and sleeker sunglasses and a very antisocial personality. Actually, the sunglasses aren’t quite for show, he’s rather sensitive to light and the shades act as a barrier between him and a migraine, but damned if he’s going to let anyone else know that. Better to let them make their own assumptions and just look cool while they do it.

He also has two obnoxious neighbors named Hastur and Ligur, who Crowley despises so much in turn that he’s not even sure if those are their real names (and made a promise to himself to never make the effort to learn otherwise). The pair seemingly spend most of their unending free time either spying on Crowley or plotting some elaborate prank on him. All because of an _incident_ soon after he first moved in involving a water bucket, some toads, a load of laundry, and a very unlucky fern. What began as mutual distaste has grown into a bitter feud throughout the years, with neither of the groups wanting to move and let the other one _win_.

Aside from those two, Crowley’s only other regular human interaction comes from his assistant Newton Pulsifer, a young man better described as ‘anxiety personified.’ Newton, otherwise known as either Pulsifer (if Crowley is agitated) or Newt (if Crowley is feeling any other emotion), stumbled into _Once and Floral_ one dreary afternoon asking after potential employment. The lad was recently sacked from his job as an office’s IT guy, and Crowley was feeling just lonely enough to say yeah mate, come aboard. What began as a rocky work relationship eventually blossomed into a tentative friendship, complete with routine weekly visits to the pub to gripe about whatever they don’t cover at work.

All in all, Anthony J. Crowley is a simple man, with simple needs.

And what he needs right now is for this cat outside his shop to _leave him alone._

The thing has been hanging around for a few days, meowing pitifully and rubbing his legs everytime he walks by. He tried to ignore her the first few times she assaulted him as he stepped outside, but she’s been incredibly persistent in her quest for attention. Which has led to Crowley’s resolve breaking, the sweet furry face successfully persuaded him to pick her up and carry her while he stalked around the store.

It’s during one of these moments, with a cat in one hand and a watering can in the other, that Newt speaks up.

“You should keep her.”

“Absolutely not. Not happening.”

“The shop could use a mascot! And she doesn’t have any owners, no one around here’s claimed her. And,” Newt paused while the cat purred in Crowley’s arms, “She likes you.”

“She does not,” Crowley said, like a liar, holding a cat that hadn’t stopped purring and nuzzling him since he picked her up ten minutes ago. “Ugh. She can’t come home with me, Crawley would hate that. Probably not even safe for either of them to be in the same space. S’pose she’ll just have to stay here.” He pinched his nose. “We’ll have to move the lilies somewhere she can’t get to.”

It became obvious within the next few days that the cat would be a permanent fixture in the shop. Moreso when Crowley actually made the effort to buy her a bed, placed in the best sunning spot in the shop, and then toyed with the idea of buying her multiple beds. For variety. He sometimes liked to move from playing on his phone while lounging on his couch to playing on his phone while lounging on his bed, doesn’t it make sense that she’d want something new as well?

Newt bore the burden of being the thing Crowley bounced cat-related ideas at fairly well. After listening to his boss ramble for the third time that afternoon about the cat and her living area, he piped up with an actual practical thought about pet ownership.

“You should bring her to a vet. Get her checked up. Maybe shots.”

The ginger had a thoughtful pause, thinking of Crawley’s vet who works an extraordinary distance away and specializes mainly in reptiles, “My vet doesn’t see furry things.”

“There’s one nearby. Couple blocks away, even. My aunt used to take her yorkie there before she moved to the country. It’s a pretty nice place. Couldn’t hurt to check in.”

Crowley sighed. “No, I s’pose not.”

In the end, he packed the cat into a spacious cardboard box and set off down the block. The top of the makeshift cat carrier was not sealed and the little creature could very clearly poke her head out whenever she wanted (which she did, often), but Crowley still had a mild panic over whether or not he needed to also poke holes in the sides the whole walk to the clinic.

The clinic really wasn’t far at all. Nestled on a street corner was an old, spacious building with a large plaque above the double doors proclaiming it to be _Eden Animal Hospital._ Some of the windows had a layer of grime to them that suggested either the owner forgot they were there, or got tired halfway through spring cleaning and decided to do something more engaging. On the closest window hung a sign proclaiming the clinic’s hours, which were all notably strange. Very rarely was the clinic open in the morning, often the hours stretched farther into the evening than most other respectable businesses, and it was closed on Tuesdays altogether. Why Tuesdays?

Crowley glanced at the sign hanging on the window stating the clinic’s hours again, then stepped through the doors.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he had expected when he stepped into Eden Animal Hospital, but it wasn’t this. Inside sat a cramped lobby, with a reception desk politely tucked into the corner near the entrance. Beside the desk, manned by an older woman wearing a frankly inspiring amount of bright makeup, lie an alcove that further emptied into a short hallway with a number of doors on either side. On the other side of the lobby, past the cushioned chairs arranged in two short rows, was a large set of shelves containing specialty pet food on the first number of shelves and some impressively dusty books on the highest. Crowley stopped his scan of the place to casually make his way over to the receptionist, who cooed at the barely-visible furry head peeking out from between the cardboard flaps. She looked back up at Crowley, studied him for a moment, then turned towards the hallway behind her to shout, “You were right again, Ana!” An answering whoop and distant _I knew it!_ rang out from the back rooms. “How can we help you?”

“Uh. Okay,” A pause to collect his thoughts after that interaction, then he continued, “I found this cat outside my shop. Decided to keep her. Want to get her all, er. In order. Get her checked out and whatnot, vaccinated, whatever.”

The woman handed him a clipboard with a piece of paper attached and he shifted the box to his hip to grab it. “Alrighty, just be a dear and fill out this paperwork best you can for us. Top bit is about you, bottom bit’s about the cat. Once you get that finished, we’ll get you in to see Doctor Fell as soon as possible.”

He nodded and moved to sink into one of the cushioned chairs to fill out the given paper. In a few short minutes, he sauntered back to the receptionist to hand the clipboard back to her. She took it with a smile and a _thank you, dearie!_ and he took that as his cue to wander back to his seat, whip out his phone, and scroll through social media until he could get this whole vet thing over with.

After one blissful moment in which Crowley had falsely reported three particularly annoying Twitter accounts, the quiet was broken by one of the exam room doors opening, letting a family of three out into the lobby, with a black and white wiry terrier scooped into the child of the family’s arms. A woman with long, dark hair and round glasses wearing light blue scrubs lead them to the front desk, talking to them all the way.

“No worries, Mister Young. This stuff happens all the time, but it’s good that you got Dog to us as soon as you did. In the future, when he gets into a spot of food he shouldn’t, the peroxide trick works wonders.” She winked and handed the trio off to the receptionist, who smiled and chattered away while getting them checked out. As she turned to walk back down the hallway, she made eye contact (or at least, the closest she could manage through the shades) with Crowley, then pivoted and stepped towards him. “Are you the walk-in with the cat?”

“That’s me.”

“I’ll get the room ready for you and let the good doctor know. We’ll get you in in a few.”

“Cool.”

As it was, ‘a few’ meant roughly fifteen more minutes of sitting in the empty lobby, entertaining himself by scratching the nameless cat’s head and listening to the receptionist field phone calls while the occasional sounds of agitated barking leaked from further in the building. Eventually, the same woman in scrubs reappeared to lead him down the hallway and into an exam room, saying only, “I’m Anathema. Doctor Fell will be here in a moment, but if you need anything in the meantime just knock,” before disappearing into the door on the opposite side of the room. Crowley put his cardboard charge down onto the exam table in the middle of the room, sat down, and resolved himself to another fifteen minutes of mindlessly searching social media for anything remotely interesting.

The door opened sooner than he expected.

“Mister Crowley?”

Crowley was finally pulled away from his phone, looking up to see the intruder into his solitude. In strode a man, roughly a couple inches shorter than Crowley, with a soft face and wild blond curls, wearing a cream ensemble better suited for some romantic bygone era than an animal hospital perfected by a tartan bow tie and crisp white doctor’s coat. He had a smile you could fall into, and eyes as deep as the sea, and---

“Hello! I’m Doctor Fell. So sorry about the wait, had a bit of a mess in the back to clean up.” He stuck out a hand and Crowley dumbly reached toward it, offering what he hoped was a normal handshake while trying to get his brain to cooperate.

Words were failing him at the moment. “Er. Hi.”

The veterinarian looked down at the table, releasing Crowley’s hand to offer it instead to the cat still curled in her box. She made a show of unfurling herself, then stretched towards his hand and rubbed her face against it. He chuckled and Crowley once again found himself floundering for any coherent thought.

“So what do I have the pleasure of seeing this sweet little thing for?”

“Well,” Crowley croaked. He cleared his throat, “I found the twee devil loitering outside my shop a few days ago. No one claimed her so I figured, eh, why not. Been letting her stay with me ever since and my employee suggested bringing her in to get her checked out. Maybe some vaccinations? Not a big cat person, me, so I don’t really know what to do. Haven’t even given the thing a name yet.”

Fell glanced back up and flashed a smile at him. “I see. Don’t worry, we’ll get you and your new friend all sorted out soon enough.”

Sorted out, they were. After a quick physical study of the cat, the doctor looked back up with a humorous expression, “It seems your little lady is actually a little tom.”

“What?”

“It can be pretty difficult to tell the sex difference in cats if you don’t already know how. They’re not quite as obvious as dogs. But this one’s definitely a lad!”

The vet was quick and efficient in his work, breezing through a general exam and administering a handful of feline vaccines with ease. Throughout the appointment, he talked to Crowley nonstop, offering first-time cat owner advice and chatting about his recommended diets. Crowley made a point of throwing out ridiculous name suggestions just to hear the other man laugh out loud. Between the man’s pleasant demeanor and cherubic features, Crowley had taken to referring to him as an angel in his head whilst Fell prattled on.

_(“Have you ever been bitten before? By an animal, I mean,” Crowley asked._

_Fell is nonchalant in his answer, “Oh yes, here and there. I don’t quite blame them, though. I, too, would probably lash out against a stranger probing me.”_

_‘I wouldn’t mind you probing me,’ Crowley thought, then immediately flushed and cursed himself.)_

  
  


All good things end, unfortunately, and Crowley found himself mourning the moment Doctor Fell announced Freddie Meowcury (the name that garnered a _snort_ from the veterinarian and therefore the best one in Crowley’s opinion) was all set to go. Unlike the previous clients, Fell insisted on walking Crowley out himself, continuing their previous conversations while Freddie lay his head on the edge of his box.

Fell stopped when they reached the receptionist’s desk, “Tracy will get you all set from here, dear. If you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to give us a call,” He smiled again, a genuine thing, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Crowley. I do hope we’ll see each other again.”

“Me too, angel.” The slip-up immediately made Crowley wince and Fell's smile took on a confused edge.

“Angel?”

“Yeah like you’re, uh. The guardian angel of London’s pets, y’know?”

Fell laughed, “Quite an honor. I’ll wear the title with pride, then.”

As he turned back and Crowley was left to settle things with the receptionist, he made a point to not look at her or her twinkling eyes and knowing smile.

Later, after Freddie had been deposited safely at the shop, Crowley had made his way home with his head full of thoughts about the cute vet who called him _dear_ and smiled like _the sun_. In a fit of curiosity while laying in bed, he searched through various social media apps for a ‘Doctor Fell’ and realized after a scrolling for a couple minutes that a first name would probably be more helpful than the title ‘doctor’. He searched instead for the clinic, and found a small Facebook page for the clinic, which had a few posts about pet safety during the holidays, a few pictures of clients and their pets, and…

Further scrolling unveiled a photo of the man himself. Fell, in his stupid adorable bow tie and stupid professional coat, posed in the lobby of the clinic with the tiniest goddamn golden retriever puppy in all of existence. Fell’s smile rivaled the puppy in terms of adorableness and Crowley felt like he physically hurt looking at it. He stared at the post for longer than he’d care to admit, then groaned and shut his phone off, tossing it onto his nightstand and turning his face into his pillow. This completely juvenile crush was now future Crowley’s problem, because current Crowley was definitely going to bed and not thinking about how musical Fell’s laugh was.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some fun animal hospital notes for everyone:  
> -i didn't keep A.Z. Fell & Co. as aziraphale's clinic name because every clinic named after a doctor is a pain in the ass to work with  
> -a good portion of my job is answering phones and telling people to make their dogs throw up minor things themselves because it's a lot cheaper than driving your dog to a clinic and paying us to make your dog throw up. when in doubt... call your local animal hospital  
> -i am only doing this because the idea of aziraphale holding a puppy really got to me


	2. plants and pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale's coworkers fluster him, crowley has a minor meltdown thanks to his hot vet, and they have a fun chat!

Aziraphale had seen many a strange client since _Eden_ opened. In fact, he deals mostly with eccentric people in his day-to-day life, from his clientele to his coworkers. 

Take his lovely technician for example. Anathema Device is an intense occultist, with the bizarre ability to _sense_ when a walk-in is headed to the clinic (apparently prophecies of extremely mundane events ran in her family). Then, there’s a miss Marjorie Potts (otherwise known as Tracy), who works as both _Eden’s_ receptionist during the weekday and as an amateur medium every other weekend. The irony of having two spiritualists at a clinic named _Eden,_ working under a man named after an angel is not lost on Aziraphale.

Anthony Crowley is a different kind of strange from Aziraphale’s usual clientele. For one, the man looks like a rockstar, sashaying around the clinic in too-tight trousers, snakeskin boots, and dark sunglasses. The man had a snake tattooed on his temple (which was both attractive and slightly unsettling due to Aziraphale's discomfort with serpents), for God’s sake. Upon actually getting to speak to him, however, Aziraphale was surprised to find that he _wasn’t_ as intimidating as expected. He was gruff and attempted to put on a suave air, surely, but he was also kind and _funny_. The man rescued a cat without any idea of what he’d do afterwards and if that wasn’t charming, he didn’t know what was.

Aziraphale was taken with him from the get-go, essentially.

And his employees knew it, dammit.

Anathema cornered him in the back as soon as he’d returned from walking the aforementioned man out. “I told you there would be a handsome man coming in with a cat today. I _told_ you.”

He picked up a random patient’s chart and feigned interest, “I don’t recall you saying handsome.”

“I’m right though, aren’t I?”

He was stubbornly keeping his mouth shut until Anathema elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to yelp in an extremely undignified manner. She grinned and wagged her eyebrows.

“Fine, fine! He was very handsome. And funny. I took three times longer on a routine exam than I normally do just because we kept talking.”

“I know. I was waiting for you to come out of that room for like, three years.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“No need for hyperbole, dear.”

“It took forever. Empires rose and fell while you were chatting up Mister Snakeface.”

“Anathema! He’s got a name, you know.”

“Are we talking about Zira flirting with that pretty young man?” Tracy interrupted the scolding session that was definitely going to involve a ‘ _professionalism, Anathema, I mean really you could just read the chart and see his name it’s just polite’_ lecture by handing Aziraphale a stack of charts.

Aziraphale indignantly squawked an _“I wasn’t flirting!”_ at the same time Anathema muttered, _“I wouldn’t say young.”_

“You walked him right up to my desk. For you, that’s basically a proposal. I know you hate dealing with people, love. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen you approach the lobby without good reason.”

“I had good reason!”

Anathema snickered, “‘Good reason’ being the good-looking man in tight pants, right?”

“I… just wanted to make sure he knew to contact us if he had any questions.”

“D’you know, Ana,” Tracy started, looking pensive, “That Mister Crowley called Zira _angel_?”

“ _He what?!_ ” Anathema practically vibrated in place with excitement, then zoomed around to wildly point a finger at Aziraphale, “That’s flirting! He flirted! Flirterer!”

Aziraphale swiped a hand down his quickly-reddening face in an effort to hide his shy smile. “Stop that, he was just being nice. Thanking me for seeing to his cat and all.”

“I don’t know about you, Trace, but I don’t call just anyone _angel_. In fact, I would wager that most people don’t give their vets pet names.” Tracy gave an affirmative nod.

“Get back to work, you two.” Aziraphale attempted to sound stern, but his still-flushed complexion and embarrassed smile gave Anathema and Tracy cause to heckle him until the next appointment walked in and they really _did_ have to get back to work.

  
  
  


The next day, Crowley treated Newt to an incensed play-by-play of his interaction with Doctor Fell while Freddie lounged about. This occurred after he had already given Crawley an equally incensed play-by-play of said interaction that morning, but the snake was wholly uninterested and did not help Crowley get this _met-a-cute-guy-might-go-insane_ energy out, so Newt was his next target.

“So wait, the cat’s a boy?”

“Yes, Newton, keep up. As I was saying, the guy did the exam, gave him shots, the whole stretch, and he kept _talking to me_ . Not just small talk, either. Gave me lots of cat advice and stories, talked about other patients he sees. He laughed at my weird jokes. _My_ jokes!”

“Right. And he’s good-looking?”

“Beautiful. Gorgeous. Possibly the most handsome being I’ve ever met. And he dresses in beige. Hold on,” Crowley wrangled his phone out of his pocket, fumbling to unlock it and locate the photo of Fell posing with a puppy. Once found, he practically threw the phone at Newt, “See? Ridiculously adorable. I can’t stand it.” The gangly man nodded sympathetically before handing the phone back.

“Why didn’t you ask him out?”

“He dresses in _beige_ , Newt. Come on. I am not remotely his type. Look at me. Do I look like I can land a bowtie-clad animal doctor?” He gestured vaguely down at himself, wearing an apron and covered in soil. Newt stared blankly back at him.

“I— I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that question.”

“Nevermind. My point is— my point is— What if he’s straight?”

“You could always get to know him.”

“It’d be a bit strange, me going into an animal hospital to chat up the doctor without any pet, wouldn’t it? Can’t just go bringing Freddie in every day for a check-up.” Freddie, in response to hearing his name, lifted his head and observed his owner’s meltdown impassively.

Newt nodded and chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“You could find some other reason to head over. Maybe bring some flowers or something? Y’know, as a thank you for taking care of Freddie. Or… something.”

Crowley held his chin, smearing dirt over his jaw inadvertently, “That could work.” The spread of loose soil continued as he scrubbed his hand over his face. “Fuck. We’ve got an arrangement to finish today. I can’t focus. All because of this bloody stupid-cute vet. Who does he think he is?”

Newt sensed another Fell-induced rant coming on and attempted to nip it in the bud for the sake of actually completing their work, “We could brainstorm more at the pub, if you want. Think of other ways for you to talk to your hot vet.”

“Right. Okay. Brainstorm session at the pub this week, got it.” Newt’s words registered at that moment and Crowley protested, “Oi! Don’t call him ‘hot vet’! He’s got a name, you reprobate.”

  
  
  


Aziraphale and Anathema met for drinks at least once a week. It was a fun ritual to relieve the stress of working in the animal care industry. Occasionally, Tracy will join them when she’s not “pulling back the veil” or having dinner with her eccentric beau (who does not particularly get along with either of her coworkers and with his old-fashioned attitude and fashion is more out of place in modern settings than Aziraphale’s; therefore not well-suited as company). They stay in more often than not, but this week found them heading out into the wilds of London’s social sphere.

It’s a relatively calm night as the two settle at a table tucked away from all the action. They sipped cider and slipped into easy conversation.

On the other side of the pub sat Newt and Crowley, who had been locked in a fierce debate for the past fifteen over what was the most appropriate way to attempt to chat up one’s vet. Newt was still hooked on the whole _give-him-flowers-for-his-clinic_ idea, thinking it rather romantic, whilst Crowley panicked over the fifty million ways his brain told him this could go wrong.

Crowley glanced around, eyes darting across the room until familiar pale-blonde curls stopped him in his tracks. There sat the good doctor, laughing and drinking with the intense young woman from the clinic. Crowley hurriedly excused himself, confusing Newt until he watched his boss trail toward the other side of the room and everything clicked.

Crowley pushed his way over to Aziraphale’s table, psyching himself up the whole way over. When he arrived, he prayed he’d sound more suave than he felt and drawled, “Fancy seeing you here, Dr. Fell.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up upon recognition. “Mister Crowley! How wonderful to see you. And please, you can just call me Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale,” He tested the name on his tongue, “Interesting name. I mean— I like it. Suits you. If we’re not being formal, you can just call me Crowley.”

  
  


“Crowley it is, then.” Aziraphale seemed to finally take notice of the fact that Anathema had been watching this unfold with her chin in her hands and a smile on her face and stammered, “Oh, how rude of me! Crowley, this is my technician, Anathema.”

Anathema shook Crowley’s hand with a wry smile, “Nice to see you again, Crowley.” She spotted Newt still sitting at the booth that Crowley had abandoned him in and made a quick decision to make a new friend. “Hey, Zira, I just saw an old friend walk by so I’m going to pop off and catch up, alright? Find me later.”

“Of course, dear girl. Have fun.”

“So,” Crowley began, “Just getting off work?”

Aziraphale sighed, “I’m afraid so. It was a late day for us. Far too many pet emergencies for my taste today. How about you? I didn’t catch what you did for a living when we met before.”

“Ah, I own a nursery slash flower shop. Fun combo, really. Spent most of my day wrangling the damn cat rather than working, though.”

“How’s Freddie coping?”

“He’s doing great. Made himself a home in my shop, the devil. Knocks anything smaller than him off the shelves.”

“He stays in the shop, then?”

“Yep. Got a ball python at home, didn’t think she’d get along with him too well so he stays at the nursery.”

An answering nod, “Probably best to keep them separate.”

“Have to agree, ‘specially with how nosey Freddie is. Crawley is a patient beast but I can’t imagine she’d enjoy having that menace pawing around her terrarium.”

“I’m sorry, is your snake’s name ‘Crawley’? Did you… did you name her after yourself?”

Crowley admired how Aziraphale’s brows knitted together when he looked particularly lost, like now. Wait, he was just asked a question, wasn't he? Focus, Crowley.

“Yep!” Crowley answered proudly once he zoned back in, clearly thinking himself hilarious. “She’s a beaut too, just like her dad.” He grinned wildly, “You wanna see a picture?”

“Oh my goodness,” Aziraphale hesitated, “I don’t want to seem impolite, she sounds lovely, but you see… I’m actually terribly afraid of snakes!” The last of his sentence was said in a rush, punctuated with a nervous chuckle.

“Wait, really? A veterinarian? Afraid of snakes?” Crowley laughed, disbelieving, “No judgment from me, I just thought you had to, y'know. Love all animals and whatnot. Although… I do have a snake tattoo. On my face. And you didn’t say anything about it before.”

“It would have been rude to comment on! ‘Oh lovely ink, dear, but I _am_ horribly afraid of snakes so you’re going to have to keep that side of your face angled away from me.’”

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad indeed. I am joking, though. I think your tattoo is exquisite.” He turned his eyes down and took a sip of his drink.

“Um. Thanks.” Crowley stuttered, “So, er, when you’re not saving the many pets of London and helping weird florists with their cats, what do you do?”

“Read, mostly. Oh, sometimes I’ll go out with Anathema, occasionally try to see theatrical productions, but nothing beats a good book. I simply adore literature. Probably would have studied it if I didn’t dream of working with animals!” Aziraphale took Crowley’s rapt attention as permission to launch into a list of his favorite works and treasured collections.

Crowley leaned forward, chin in hand, listening to Aziraphale talk about his favorite books. The man had a brightness around him while he was enthusiastically rambling about his passions and Crowley had been planning on basking in it the whole night. He thought he could easily pass hours this very way, listening to the bizarre vet analyze classic works, giving his own opinions whenever requested.

“Oh! My dear boy, I’ve been rambling on so much about myself, I apologize. What about you? Outside of rescuing stray cats, what do you get up to?”

“Not much, to be honest. I discipline my plants and watch Golden Girls reruns. Not too exciting.”

“I’m sorry, you do what to your plants?”

Crowley smiled mischievously, “Discipline. Give ‘em a good, hard lecture. Shout a bit. Y’know, show them who’s boss. Makes ‘em grow better.”

“Does it?”

“Sure does. Got the best looking greenery around. Look, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through an album titled _little shits_ , shoving it towards Aziraphale. As he swiped through, Aziraphale ooh’d and ahh’d over the various plants and Crowley tried not to look too proud.

During their plant-admiring session, Anathema cropped back up to pat Aziraphale’s arm and let him know that she’d be waiting outside whenever he was ready to head out. He apologized, turning back to Crowley once she’d flounced off. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to cut the night short. Early appointments tomorrow. But I’d really enjoy learning more about your horticultural endeavors some other time?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got some lovely blooms coming in soon, I’ll text you a photo?” The last bit of that sentence was pitched up, more like a question than a statement and Crowley’s face betrayed more of his nervous energy than he’d like.

“I’d love that. I don’t use my mobile often, though, so no promises on a quick response time.”

They exchanged numbers, Crowley promising to send Aziraphale routine plant and cat updates.

“I’ve got to run, I've kept Anathema waiting long enough, but was wonderful to get to chat with you. Mind how you go!”

Crowley, dopey smile plastered on his face, waved him off with a “Talk to you later, angel.”

Newt reappeared shortly, asking how it went. Crowley slapped him on the back, “Newt. We have so much to discuss. Let’s drink. Right now.”

  
  
  


On the drive to Aziraphale’s flat, Anathema listened as he recounted the evening’s conversation. “I can’t believe you gave him your number, you sly dog.”

“Anathema,” Aziraphale’s tone was clearly exasperated, but he said it with a smile.

Anathema whooped, “Aziraphale’s still got game!”

“ _Anathema!_ ”

  
  


Later that night, Crowley, trembling with nerves, snapped a photo of one of his pale pink snapdragons, sending it to Aziraphale with the caption ‘ _one from my personal collection’._ He wasn’t expecting the man to respond a few minutes later with a simple, ‘ _Beautiful! [heart emoji]’_. He excitedly updated Crawley on the situation, who flicked her tongue out at him but otherwise did not respond (because she is a snake). He made a mental note to see if Aziraphale-related conversations with Freddie would be more productive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got too excited over this fic and had to update ... enjoy :p x


	3. lunch dates and floral arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they eat lunch! some other stuff happens, too.

Like teenagers, they spent the better part of the next three days texting back and forth.

Crowley would send Aziraphale updates on Freddie and pictures of his proudest greenery, which the vet would croon over. In turn, Aziraphale would send pictures of various patients and a little blurb on what they were visiting for. Crowley lived for it, the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket sending him straight into a state of glee.

_Aziraphale: [sent image0.jpg]_

Attached was an image of what may be a dog with a very long, sloping face facing toward the camera and panting. The creature had a short, curly white coat and very endearing floppy ears. Even with the focus on the dog, Crowley could see Aziraphale slightly out of frame: an arm slung over the dog’s neck, presumably holding the camera, a hand reaching up to pet, a delighted smile just barely visible. All in all, a very captivating photo. Crowley couldn’t stop staring. What was it about pictures of Aziraphale and dogs that did it for him? A chime indicating another text pulled him out of his thoughts.

_Aziraphale: This is Lizzie Bennet Fell. She’s a borzoi, she likes long walks in the park and attempting to raid my pantry._

_Crowley: is this one urs?_

_Crowley: she looks like a small majestic horse_

_Aziraphale: Yes, I adopted her from the clinic I worked at previously. She was a blood donor until they retired her, by then we’d bonded so much that I just had to take her home._

_Crowley: adorable_

Careful planning for the last three days and much support from Newt lead to his next text:

_Crowley: hey angel, i’ve got a long lunch today. do u want to meet and grab a bite? if ur busy its no problem_

He stashed his phone away and tried to ignore how much a single text made his heart race. Bloody teenager. 

The answering vibrate caused Crowley no small amount of anxiety. The thought of checking his phone and seeing a rejection stirred such a profound pain in his chest that he opted instead to steadfastly ignore it altogether and attempt to put it out of his mind. This worked for all of two minutes, until the blasted device vibrated again to remind him of the unread message. Finally, he bit the bullet and opened his messages.

_Aziraphale: I’d love to! I’m open from two to three-thirty, if that’s okay?_

_Crowley: fantastic. any preference on where we go?_

_Aziraphale: Not at all, dear. Wherever you’d like._

_Crowley: aw thats not fair. i asked u to lunch, therefore u should b the one to pick the restaurant_

_Aziraphale: How does Italian sound? I know a brilliant little restaurant only about fifteen minutes out._

_Crowley: i will agree to those terms. will be by to pick u up at 2_

_Aziraphale: See you then!_

He absentmindedly stared down at his phone with a goofy grin plastered on his face, only becoming aware of it when Newt walked through the doorway. By then it was too late but he still tried to school his face into a disapproving smirk. Newt, being more clever than he seems, made a connection between Crowley once again staring at his phone as he’s been wont to do ever since trading numbers with the vet at the pub, and the huge smile on his face. He internally sighed and settled in for another day of his boss’s pining nonsense. When Crowley squinted his eyes at him, Newt only raised his eyebrows in response.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Crowley jabbed a finger at him, “Stop it.”

Newt rolled his eyes. Crowley glared. They played this game for another minute before the ginger gave in with a dramatic sigh and threw his hands up.

“I’m going to lunch. With Aziraphale. Shortly.”

“Good on you, mate. Finally worked up the courage to ask him?”

Crowley waved him off and attempted to go back to work, “Yes, yes, you fucking menace.”

“Where are you two going then?”

“I don’t know yet. Figured I’d feel it out when I pick him up.”

Newt muttered something that sounded a bit too much like _not the only thing you’ll be feeling_ for Crowley’s comfort.

  
  
  


Meanwhile, Aziraphale had taken to updating Lizzie on his predicament as they sat in his office.

“I just don’t know,” he started, scratching behind her ears, “Is this... a date? Would it be strange if I asked? What if it’s not?” Lizzie nosed at his hand when he stopped petting her. “It’s been a minute since the last time I’ve gone on one.”

Anathema chose that moment to bust through the door, “Hey boss, I’ve got that bloodwork spinning and set the timer.”

“Wonderful, thank you Anathema.” He paused, deciding whether to open himself up for more teasing by bringing her up to date. She seemed to sense that he had more to add and patiently waited, looking at him expectantly. He sighed, “I’ll be out of the office for lunch today. Just wanted you to know in case you needed me for any reason.”

“Oh?” A wicked grin. “You’re going out for lunch? Funny, I’d thought you brought something today.”

“I’ve decided on a change of plans.”

She moseyed up to his desk, leaning over to give Lizzie a pat on the head. “Curious. Any reason why you’re now choosing to go out?”

He turned his nose up, replying haughtily, “I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, we’re being secretive now are we? What’cha hiding? I’ve got all day.”

“Anathema.”

“I know that tone of voice! That’s the ‘ _Anathema stop bullying me over my crush’_ voice!” Her voice raised and fell in a mockery of Aziraphale’s cadence, and he found himself more impressed with her imitation than annoyed.

“It is not a crush.”

“It is! Is it about him? Tell me. You know you want to.”

“You are exhausting.” Anathema merely nodded in response, still wearing a smug smirk. He’d have to get her back, one of these days. Except that finding something to tease Anathema about is a harder task than it seemed, as she has no shame and it appears that she cannot feel embarrassment. Folding that mental note away, he sighed and gave in, “Yes, alright. We’re getting lunch together. He’s coming to pick me up at two.”

An honest-to-God squeal came out of her.

Inevitably, Anathema mentioned this lunch date to Tracy, who joined in the ever-growing buzz as the clock ticked closer to two. Aziraphale attempted to act unaffected as he went about his work, but his excitement was steadily growing too, as time went on and his friends poked fun at him.

At five minutes til two, a flash black car outside the building rolled up to the curb and parked. Out of the vintage contraption stepped Crowley, bundle of nerves personified. Luckily, Tracy had been watching the windows vigilantly, looking for any flash of red hair, and the moment he stepped through the door she had already waved him off and bounced to the back to alert Aziraphale.

Then the man himself emerged from the hallway, his face breaking out into a glorious smile when his eyes met Crowley’s. “Hello, dear!”

“Hullo, angel. Ready to go?” Without thinking, he offered an arm to the vet, who nodded and took it graciously. Together, they stepped out into the sunshine and Crowley led them to his car.

“What a gorgeous vehicle,” Aziraphale murmured as he let a hand linger on the Bentley’s bonnet before crossing over onto the passenger’s side, “Shall we be off, then?”

  
  
  


From the drive over to actually being seated and ordering at the restaurant, there were no lulls in the conversation. They switched topics often and with ease, flowing back and forth between various discussions as if they’d never moved on. Aziraphale nudged Crowley into opening up about his plant shop, which led to a back-and-forth between the two about their respective business’s openings.

_(“Honestly, I admire your green thumb greatly. I’m pretty sure I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever come in contact with.”_

_“One of these days, we’ll find you a hardy little thing that you won’t be able to kill. I swear on it.”)_

Crowley spoke at length about his teenage rebellion which led to an equally rebellious young adulthood, culminating in getting a tattoo on his temple and a job in a shoddy nursery. Aziraphale shied away from speaking about his family, preferring to instead inform the other on his life-long passion for animal care and experience working at various clinics after graduating.

After a short-lived bout of silence during which the two ate, Aziraphale caved to his curiosity and cautiously started, “I’ve been wondering… why exactly do you wear your glasses all the time?” At Crowley’s raised brows, he backtracked, “Forgive me if I overstepped, I’ve just been rather curious. No need to answer if you’re not comfortable.”

The corners of Crowley’s mouth twitched upward, “Nahh, it’s cool. Was mostly surprised that it took you this long to ask, honest. Medical condition. Real sensitive to light, me. Not really worth it to take them off and get a migraine. They’ve also got the perk of adding a mysterious air to my whole look.”

“Completely understandable, then. You do look quite stylish in them.” Aziraphale’s phone chimed then, a text from Anathema drawing him out of their little bubble. He frowned upon noticing the time, “I suppose we’d better be off soon. I’ve another appointment in half an hour. Shall we get the check?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Crowley.”

“I suggested lunch, you chose the restaurant, so I pay. That’s how this works.”

“Is it, now? Seems a bit balanced in my favor.”

Crowley shrugged with a smile.

“Well,” Aziraphale continued, “This has been splendid. Would you be averse to taking lunch together more often? Under the condition, of course, that I _am_ allowed to foot the bill at some point.”

“A perfectly agreeable suggestion, angel.”

  
  
  


It continued like this for two weeks, the two of them meeting every other day for lunch. Some days they’d have deep philosophical discussions, others they’d talk about their personal lives. During one outing, Crowley tasked Aziraphale with reciting every bone in a dog’s body, while Aziraphale challenged him to list all of his favorite plants by scientific name. Pet photos were shared and stories swapped, and on one notable occasion Aziraphale put on a brave face and asked to see a photo of Crawley (Though his face paled initially, he complimented her scale patterns and assured Crowley he thought her a lovely specimen, which in turn made Crowley feel like a very proud (single) father). Stories of Crowley’s neighbors and their… bizarre feud entertained Aziraphale greatly. And in the angel, Crowley found a prank plotting partner who was almost more devious than he was.

On the days where they didn’t meet for lunch, they swapped texts throughout the day (and well into the evening).

It was one of these days when Crowley dropped off the first arrangement to the clinic. He’d gotten tired of Newt repeatedly telling him to _‘give the damn man some flowers’_ and did it solely to make the man shut up, not because he thought it’d be a nice gesture that the angel would definitely appreciate. Not at all. Thus he gathered a few of the blooms that hadn’t disappointed him and created a simple arrangement of forget-me-nots and epimediums. The light blue flowers balanced by the pale yellow was reminiscent of the angel’s preferred color scheme. Crowley hoped he’d like it, at least for that reason. Much like his previous trip to the clinic with a cardboard bundle in his arms, he found himself becoming progressively more anxious as he got closer to the building. He thought about turning around, going back to his shop and trying again another day when he had more confidence, but the _Eden_ sign loomed over him before he knew it and he pushed forth into the unknown.

The receptionist crooned, “Hello again, Mister Crowley!” 

“Um. Hi,” he said simply, stepping over the doorway, “I’ve—er. I thought. I put this together. As thanks. For helping me with Freddie.” He thrust the arrangement toward her, then added in afterthought, “To, uh, all of you?”

“Oh, isn’t this lovely! Here, I’ll put that in a vase.” She gently accepted the flowers, “How thoughtful! Sit right here, dearie, I’ll run and let Doctor Fell know.”

“Not necessary!” He stammered and flushed, “You don’t have to! I can’t stay to chat, I’ve got to run. Uh— back to my shop. Yep. Just wanted to drop this off before I get back to work. That’s all. Great seeing you, haveaniceday.” The last bit was said in one breath as he hurried out the door and down the street.

Tracy watched him practically run off, then cheerfully bustled to the back.

Aziraphale and Anathema were crouched on the ground, Anathema securely wrapped around a large labrador to keep the pet still while the vet worked on administering its annual vaccines.

“Zira! Your handsome suitor just dropped by. Left a wonderful little floral arrangement for ‘us’ up front.” She placed air quotes around the word ‘us’, winking at him.

Aziraphale seemed caught off-guard, he paused after filling a syringe and looked up at her. “He what?”

“He left some flowers! Said ‘oh I put this together for you all as thanks for helping with my cat,’ real shy. _I_ think they’re meant for _you_ , though.”

Aziraphale went back to work, deftly administering shots while a visible blush and slight smile settled on his face. “He’s just grateful we were able to get his cat all sorted, Tracy. That’s all.” After he finished, he scratched the lab’s nape while Anathema let out a puff of breath and loosened her hold on it.

“Oh no, that’s not all, love. The man takes you out to lunch every other day for the past two weeks, now he’s bringing flowers to your workplace? Come now.”

Anathema clambered to her feet and added, “And they’ve been texting non-stop since the pub. I mean, honestly, have you ever seen Aziraphale use his phone for anything more than a once-in-a-blue-moon call? Now he’s suddenly glued to it, texting _Crowley_ ,” she said the name in a mock of Aziraphale’s posh accent, “twenty-four seven. And, and! Not to mention the whole _‘angel’_ thing. It all could mean only one thing.”

“Which is?”

“He’s courting you, doofus.”

“Please, don’t be ridiculous.”

“We’re being the ridiculous ones?! Earth to Zira, this man is basically waving a neon sign in your face saying _I Like You_.” To accentuate her point, she waved her hands in front of his face, to which he scowled and nudged her away.

  
  
  


Aziraphale remained unconvinced. And yet, after a new arrangement started arriving weekly, he did have to concede that it was a tad suspicious.

He brought it up over lunch one day, abruptly switching from their previous topic to mention how much he adored receiving the arrangements, how they were the highlight of his clinic now. Crowley choked on his water, muttered out a ‘ _yeah, no problem angel, any time’_ and continued on, a delightful blush accentuating his features.

Very suspicious, indeed.

  
  
  
  


He made the decision to visit Crowley’s pride and joy on a Tuesday, a day where he had no appointments and no coworkers present to tease him. In all their talks, Crowley had never mentioned where, exactly, his shop was located, but this was no problem as Aziraphale had (very recently) gotten with the times and knew his way around a Google search or two. Locating the shop was no hassle then, as there was only one nursery with so egregiously punny a name as _Once and Floral_ in this area. He _was_ surprised at how close it was to his own clinic, though logically he knew it must have been near if Crowley had decided to walk with Freddie that fateful day instead of simply making the drive.

Upon arriving, Aziraphale took a moment to admire the exterior of the nursery. Unlike his clinic, whose architecture was ancient and the general aesthetic emphasised that, _Once and Floral_ was sleek and glossy, with large tinted windows covering the front of the building and a polished sign declaring the name and hours embossed over them.

Aziraphale wandered through the door and into the shop proper, distantly registering the tinkling of the bell above the door announcing his entrance. Just inside were a number of standing shelves, lined with greens. Continuing further into the shop were larger shelves and pots, all cascading with verdant life and leading back to a darkened doorway with faded music drifting out of it. To the right of the entrance stood the cashier’s counter, surprisingly clear considering every other horizontal space in the shop was thusly covered in flora. Behind the counter was a door, presumably opening to an office of some sort.

At the sound of the bell over the door, a gangly man dressed plainly greeted him whilst stumbling through the door, “Hullo, how can I help you?”

“Just looking, dear boy. Is Crowley in today?”

The man seemed confused for a moment that someone would actually be seeking out his boss of their own accord, then looked him up and down again. “Sure, let me run back and get him.”

Aziraphale nodded, turning to the nearest shelf to admire the sprawling flora. Freddie, having been awakened by the entrance of this angel, crawled out of one of his many hiding spots behind the shelves and meowed. “Oh, hello beautiful boy! And how are you today, Mister Meowcury?” Freddie butted the man’s hand with his head, meowing pitifully until Aziraphale reached out and scratched behind his ears. Of course, this is not nearly enough attention for a feline just waking up, so Freddie pawed at the vet’s arm, begging to be held. Aziraphale, being soft of heart, obviously gave in and gathered the cat in his arms, petting and murmuring compliments to him all the while.

  
  
  


Crowley had not been dancing to the rock music in his back room, per se. What he _was_ doing was adding more of a slight shuffle to his already unruly walk, which just happened to coincide with the beat of the music. Admittedly, he had gotten a bit lost in the act. Thus, when Newt burst into the room, he startled and hissed in surprise.

“Jesus Christ! What’s all this about? Interrupting my important work, you are.”

Newt stared impassively at him, “Your hot vet is here.”

“My— he’s— _what?_ Here? In the shop?”

“In the shop, yes. Generally when one says ‘here’ they mean the current location.”

“Don’t be a smartarse. What— why is he here? _In the shop_?”

“Asked after you.”

“Fuck. Okay. How do I look?”

Newt looked him over. Given what he knew about the vet, Newt figured the mussed hair and dirt-covered clothes would be considered charming and gave a thumbs up.

“Right. Here I go, then. Shit.”

  
  
  


Crowley knew Aziraphale did some wacky things to his general chest area, but he wasn’t prepared for the awful/wonderful clenching in his heart when he took in the sight of Aziraphale cradling Freddie, smiling and cooing over the little devil. His smile was simply infectious. _Horrid man_ , thought Crowley as he tried to walk over with a straight face, _truly the worst_.

“Hiya, angel.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale turned and Crowley was _not_ ready for that blinding smile to be directed toward him. He needed a moment to prepare, god damn it. “I was just saying hello to Freddie, he’s certainly been fattening up. How are you, my dear?”

“Better, now that you’re here,” _Too cheesy, too forward_ , Crowley mentally kicked himself. Aziraphale didn’t seem displeased though, his smile still just as genuine if not more bashful. Soldier on, then. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“Well, it had occurred to me that you’ve been to _Eden_ more times than I could count, but I hadn’t yet visited your shop! So, here I am. It’s absolutely lovely, Crowley.”

Crowley stuttered some syllables, the last one vaguely sounding like a _thanks_ , then caught himself, “Since you’re here, might as well give you the grand tour.”

Aziraphale nodded, allowed Freddie to settle back into his sunning spot, and gestured for Crowley to start, “After you.”

Crowley led the way, weaving through the shelves and announcing the different plants’ names while Aziraphale trailed behind, hanging on every word. It was when the pair had turned a corner that Crowley recalled a previous discussion and stopped in his tracks, causing his little tourist to nearly stumble into him.

“Crowley? Is everything alright?”

“We can get you a plant! I’ve got some real hardy ones here, nearly impossible for you to kill. Hold on, follow me, you’ll be a certified plant owner in no time. Pet safe, too.”

“How exciting,” He sounded genuinely honored by the gesture, “Lead on, then.”

Three rows of low-maintenance greenery collected and arranged later, with their intricacies (or lack thereof) painstakingly explained, Crowley came to the last of his picking. He held up a pot with a trailing vine flowing out of it. The vine was covered in bright, heart-shaped leaves, the green tinged with speckles of gold.

“So. This one I think is fun based on how sturdy it is—she won’t care if you forget to water her for a hot minute and will look pretty the whole time—and also because. Well. The name. This is _Epipremnum aureum_ , otherwise known as pothos, otherwise known as, drumroll please… devil’s ivy.” He grinned and handed the pot over to Aziraphale, “An angel, owning devil’s ivy? It’s funny, right?”

“Very,” Aziraphale conceded, mostly because Crowley looked pleased as punch with his joke and that in turn made Aziraphale happy. He took the offered pot, admired its quiet beauty and simplicity, then looked back at the other man. He pretended to not notice how intensely Crowley was studying him behind the sunglasses as he continued, “It’s perfect. How much for her?”

Crowley, one hand on his hip and the other free, wagged a finger at him. “Nuh uh. Free of charge.”

“Crowley! I insist.”

“Nope. Nada, it’s a gift.”

Aziraphale sighed, “I guess I’ll just have to repay you by getting the lunch ticket next time around, hm?”

Regardless of the fact the two of them had been going on lunch dates consistently for weeks at this point, Crowley was ecstatic at the confirmation of ‘another time’. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Insufferable man.” Aziraphale said with a smile, “I suppose I should take this ivy home, set her up and all. Allow you to go back to work. Thank you, Crowley.”

“Don’t mention it.”

  
  
  


Roughly an hour later, Crowley was treated to a text from Aziraphale. Attached was a photo of the ivy on a windowsill, with Lizzie staring at it in the foreground, and an update on how it was doing.

Later that night, Crowley moved about his flat still thinking about the visit. “Frankly,” he started, gently cradling Crawley in his arms as they moved to the couch for a good old-fashioned snake cuddle, “He’s the most obscenely adorable person in the world. Y’know, he’s finally worked up the nerve to look at pictures of you. Says you’re very pretty,” He paused, “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

  
  


In a different flat, another pet-owner vent session was occurring. Aziraphale sat in his favorite armchair, initially planning on spending his night reading. Instead, his book lay forgotten on the end table and he spent his evening updating his dog on the most recent Crowley occurrences. Lizzie Bennet dutifully laid her head on his knee and listened as her owner raved about the florist.

“I think I should very much like to kiss him, Lizzie.”

The dog snorted in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this definitely isn't my favorite chapter but It Had To Be Written
> 
> honestly not sure if borzois are commonly used as donor dogs! originally i had written aziraphale having a greyhound, who often have universal blood types & therefore used as donor dogs, based on the retired donors at my job bc 1. i wanted aziraphale to have a big dog 2. i think he'd definitely help rehome a donor. but then i realized that borzois have that lovely curly coat that'd match his curly hair gloriously x
> 
> edit: oops, fixed a whoopsie


	4. girls night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are a-brewing!
> 
> ft. a cameo of the doctor from my dear friend crimsondukemon's doctor who fic (will link when it's published) involving thirteen buying sad flowers from crowley, very sadly.

Aziraphale was a problem, Crowley mused. The man haunted his thoughts constantly. He’d see a new restaurant open up down the block and wonder what Aziraphale would think of it. He’d smell pastries and think about the noises Aziraphale made when he ate a particularly savory crêpe. Freddie Meowcury would purr and he’d recall how adorable Aziraphale looked cradling the cat.

This was currently a problem as he was checking out a customer. Usually, he’d like to leave this bit to Newt because while he was in general what one could call A Mess, he was also better at human interaction than Crowley was. But Newt was off today, and the customer in question was a regular and therefore deserving of some of Crowley’s limited politeness. The blonde woman who waited in front of him came in from time to time with extremely specific flower orders, usually for flowers with love-filled meanings. This on its own would make Crowley think about Aziraphale, the romantic who once sang the praises of flower languages and lamented the practice of sending messages through floral arrangements falling out of style for a solid half hour at lunch, but the regular’s strange fashions also called to mind a certain old-fashioned vet. On occasion, she would stop in wearing very highmarket formalwear, complete with bowtie (which, again, made him think of Aziraphale) but today she wore plain, flowing trousers with brightly colored braces. In a moment of weakness, he wondered if Aziraphale ever wore braces. The thought of Aziraphale sans waistcoat, only shirtsleeves and braces was enough to make his palms sweat and bring him back to the moment. Right. Woman with flowers, woman with flowers (Why did Crowley never remember her name?).

Today, she was buying dark pink roses and being extremely patient with Crowley and his wandering mind. He apologized and quickly checked her out, she waved him off and flounced from the shop which left him with his thoughts (of Aziraphale). He didn’t want to seem desperate, texting Aziraphale constantly whenever literally anything reminded him of the other man. But good lord, the urge to talk to the man was hard to ignore. And Crowley already had weak self-control.

Of course, the fact that Aziraphale texted him throughout the day didn’t help with the situation. Today’s messages included: a morning photo of Lizzie zooming by the camera, an update on Aziraphale’s devil’s ivy (recently baptised as Eve), and a very well-composed recount of Aziraphale’s snark fight with a rude client (Crowley had learned weeks ago how cold and downright dastardly Aziraphale could be to problematic clients. The man’s favorite motto was _I may treat their animals, but I will not tolerate impoliteness in my clinic._ ). 

Their lunch dates had somehow grown more in frequency, with the two of them now meeting almost daily. In the past month, Crowley had seen and learned more about Aziraphale than he’d ever dreamt of. Including a date where Crowley had finally prodded the other man into speaking about his deathly fear of snakes (and whether it extended to other reptiles as well) with a promise that he wouldn’t poke fun. Aziraphale had sheepishly admitted it’d been a childhood fear that just stuck around and got worse as his brothers mocked him for it.

_“I’m fine with turtles and the like,” he’d said, “but snakes just… scare me. I know, it’s silly, but…”_

_“Nah. Not silly. Thanks for telling me. Since you told me ‘bout your fear, I’ll tell you one of mine.” He paused for dramatic effect, then plowed on, “Heights. Can’t stand ‘em. Don’t like to be up high. It’s more of a fear of falling, though, y’know? Can’t even be up on a full ladder without getting nervous that I’m going to take a tumble and lose my cool. Kind of stupid, really.”_

_“Nonsense. I think that’s a perfectly rational fear. Though I must admit, I wouldn’t have expected that to be your weakness. You always look so… suave. It’s hard to imagine you ‘losing your cool’.”_

Ever since then, after Crowley temporarily lost his mind at the fact that Aziraphale thought he looked _suave_ , increasingly open communications had been both a blessing and a curse to Crowley.

Crowley finally gave in to the urge to talk to the angel and rapid-fire shot a message to him.

  
_Crowley: u free for dinner tonight angel_

Aziraphale’s response came quicker than usual:

_Aziraphale: I’d love to, my dear, but I’ve got a late appointment. I probably won’t be out of the clinic until eight tonight. I don’t want to trouble you if you open early tomorrow._

_  
_ _Crowley: ‘early’ for you means any time before noon_ _  
_ _Crowley: ive got some stuff to finish up around the shop tho might take me a while_ _  
_ _Crowley: so if u were still interested we could have a late one_ _  
_ _Crowley: dont even have to go out, you could come over to my place n have girls night_ _  
_ _Crowley: get some takeout and wine and watch some shitty tv_ _  
_ _Aziraphale: I must admit, the idea of a “girls night” is tempting. We’d be ordering in, then?_ _  
_ _Crowley: anything u want_

 _Aziraphale: How does Thai sound?_ _  
_ _Crowley: amazing. txt me ur order and ill pick it up before i come grab u_

Crowley spent the remaining open hours lounging about his shop, alternating between playing on his phone and relating Aziraphale news to a stoic Freddie Meowcury, who was only interested in the treats Crowley occasionally tossed at him during his rambles.

Although his excuse of having important things to be seen to after hours was definitely a lie, Crowley did make the decision to hang around the shop instead of heading to his flat. This was partly because he’d have to be back in this area anyways to pick Aziraphale up, and partly because his neighbors had been even more hostile than usual in the past week. Recently, it’d seemed that Hastur and Ligur had it out for him, from simple glaring at him in the halls to slightly more worrying attempted mail theft. The hostilities had increased whenever Hastur had asked about whether or not Crowley was responsible for some incomprehensible situation Ligur had found himself in, and only got worse when Crowley had denied any involvement. He’d caught Ligur loitering by his door the other night and the man didn’t even try to give an excuse, just stomped back to his own door whenever Crowley approached. And he’d seen Hastur meandering back and forth in front of his shop, which he’d never once mentioned to either of them. It was, least to say, very worrying. Maybe he needed to invest in some mace. Or a bat? Taser?

He was knocked out of his musings about the dastardly duo by his phone vibrating, Aziraphale letting him know that he’s partway through his last appointment and should be ready soon. Crowley shot back an affirmative text and ordered the takeout for them.

Roughly fifteen minutes and one huge bag of Thai later, he was rolling up to the animal hospital once again. He stepped out of his car, leaning over the top to peer through the windows. Inside, Aziraphale was bidding Tracy and Anathema goodnight. He’d apparently hung up his white coat for the night, now dressed simply in a pressed blue shirt and plain chestnut trousers. The whole look was completed, as always, by a well-loved waistcoat and bowtie combo. Crowley speculated about the softness of said waistcoat, what it’d feel like under his hand, if Aziraphale ever fucking took it off. Oh shit, Aziraphale was walking out now. Focus.

Crowley swept around the car to open the passenger door for him and offer up a mock bow. “Hullo angel. How was your day?”

Aziraphale’s grateful smile nearly caused Crowley to wipe out on his saunter back round the Bentley.

“It’s been a rather long one, I’d say. We were completely booked on appointments, I’ve been flittering back and forth between rooms all day.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Very. Oh, and on top of that I had an interview with an aspiring new hire, too. Another tech, to take some of the pressures off of Anathema. He was certainly very strange…” At this, Aziraphale fell into an enthused ramble about the bizarre young man who interviewed with him today, how he’d seemed both slightly incompetent and yet also already knew his way around clinics, with two glowing recommendations from veterinarians he’d worked with in the past. Throughout their drive, Crowley listened raptly and provided witty comments as Aziraphale continued to work out whether or not this man was a worthy venture for the clinic.

Upon arrival at his building, Aziraphale fetched the takeout from the backseat and Crowley played the gracious host, narrating a tour up to the lift and to his door.

“And two doors down on the right live my dickhead neighbors. Though we haven’t been unfortunate enough to get a glimpse of these creatures, we can be sure that they’re up to no good.”

Aziraphale giggled at his exaggerated tour guide voice, “A shame, that is. I was truly looking forward to meeting the infamous neighbors.”

“Naaaah, be glad they’re staying in tonight. Absolute maniacs, they are. Anyways,” He unlocked his door and stepped aside, allowing Aziraphale to pass in front of him into the flat, “The grand tour is continuing without them.” He led Aziraphale to the kitchen, where they deposited the takeout.

Aziraphale took a moment to examine his surroundings. Crowley’s flat was plain, and the lights that _were_ on were very dim.

As if Crowley could sense Aziraphale’s thoughts as he looked around, he apologized, “Sorry about the uh, lights. I keep them low because of the whole _light sensitivity_ thing. I can turn them up if you’d like?”

“No, no,” Aziraphale began, “It’s absolutely fine by me. I’d rather you keep it comfortable. The grand tour, then?”

“Oh, of course, dear sir. Follow me.”

Crowley zigzagged around the flat, first showing Aziraphale the very spacious living room, then pointing out his bedroom, then led him to his plant room. Inside, he explained, were all his favorite and best-performing plants. Aziraphale walked around, admiring the greenery and asking questions about each one, which Crowley answered in excited tones. Once Aziraphale started cooing at the plants, the other man hustled him out of the room, mumbling _ruining perfectly well-trained plants_ and _spoiling them, I can’t believe you_ as they left.

“And right in there is Crawley’s room. Was an office of sorts before I got her, but she needed the room more than I did. Next is—”

Aziraphale quickly interrupted him, “Can I see her?”

Crowley turned back to him slowly. “Are you sure?” Upon the answering nod, he opened the door, “Yeah. Of course. In we go.”

All in all, it seemed like Aziraphale was masking his nervousness well as Crowley led him further into the room and switched on the lights. Flush against the wall sat Crawley’s terrarium, and inside rested the snake herself. “There she is,” Crowley waved vaguely at her terrarium, nearly knocking his hand into one of her heat lamps, “She’s just eaten yesterday so she’s probably still a bit sluggish today.” As he spoke, Aziraphale stepped closer to him to peer into the snake’s enclosure. Crowley could feel the other’s body heat between them and it was a bit much for him, so he started talking again to hopefully prevent any unfortunate mental shutdowns, “You could pet her. If you wanted. No pressure, though. Only if you’re comfortable.”

Aziraphale gave him a tight smile. “Oh no, I’m quite fine just admiring from a distance. She really is lovely, though.”

“That she is. Y’know, her vet has almost as insane hours at their clinic as yours. They’re open for a combined total of like, twelve hours a week.”

“Good gracious. I imagine it takes a while to get an appointment with them?”

“Oh, ages. They’re also about two hours out from here on a bad day. And Crawley, damn her, does not enjoy car rides nearly as much as I do.”

“I can imagine.”

They stood together for another moment as Aziraphale eased into the presence of the snake. Crawley, for her part, did nothing but look adorable and occasionally flick her tongue out at the two.

Crowley finally broke the silence, “Right, well, when you’ve had enough snakegazing, we can move to the kitchen.”

“Lead the way, dear.”

They made their way back to the kitchen where the takeout had been left. As Crowley didn’t necessarily have “dining” furniture, the two simply grabbed their boxes and made their way to the living room, sitting next to each other on the loveseat. Crowley had initially intended to actually find something for the two of them to watch together, but it soon became clear that they were just as easily entertained chatting between bites and the television largely went ignored. It continued to amaze Crowley how easy conversation came with Aziraphale.

“So, prior to opening _Eden_ , you worked at what, two clinics? What made you decide ‘oh sod it, I’m just going to open my own’?”

“We~ell… It’s a bit of a long story.” Aziraphale glanced upward, as if perhaps some almighty force could help him decide where to begin. “And not very interesting, I’m sorry to say. But I digress. The second clinic I worked at was a mixed bag, really, I didn’t get along well with many of the staff there save for Anathema. I had an amazing colleague though, Frances, a fellow doctor who taught me many, many valuable lessons. But the hospital itself… it wasn’t a… great… place. The other vet we worked with, and many of the technicians, well… they just didn’t care. They’d get patients in and out without taking the time to _really_ work with them. We’d have repeat patients who’d come in and not get properly treated the first time so we’d patch them up the second go-around, then charge them again. While that _did_ make money for the clinic it just wasn’t _right_ . Eventually, Frances decided to move up north and open a specialty animal hospital, dealing with neurology and whatnot. I was essentially left alone in a place that I didn’t like and I said to myself, well if I’m going to be working alone I’d at least like to do it on my own terms in a clinic that actually cares about the patients. So, long story short I offered a position to Anathema and _Eden_ opened proper. Tracy came along later when she’d heard how desperately we needed a receptionist, and here we are!”

Crowley whistled. “Wow. Proper angelic of you to open your own practice to actually make sure animals are taken care of, huh?”

“You could say so,” said Aziraphale with a smile. “How’d _Once and Floral_ come about then?”

“Oh, nothing so interesting. Worked in a nursery since moving out on my own, did some odd jobs here and there too. Liked the nursery, though. It was good work and I like terrorizing the plants. Eventually saved up enough to open up my own storefront.”

They ate in companionable silence for a moment, before Crowley realized he had a perfectly good bottle of red lying about somewhere in his kitchen, and Aziraphale, never being one to turn down wine, shooed him away to find it. Once the bottle was open, the two continued their pattern of eating silently, then having long conversations during which all food was forgotten in favor of just hearing the other speak.

“Yeah, I keep it dim in here so I don’t have to wear the glasses twenty-four seven. Bit of a pain in the ass, y’know?”

“I don’t think I own a pair of sunglasses in all honesty, so no, I wouldn’t know. But, my dear, you’re still wearing them now. Please don’t let me keep you from being comfortable in your own home.”

Crowley opened his mouth and made a couple of false-start syllables that could have vaguely led into words, then reached up and removed his shades. Aziraphale, having never seen the man’s eyes lensless before, was momentarily knocked speechless. Crowley’s irises were a light amber color in the darkness, perhaps better described as honey-gold. In that moment, Aziraphale tried to recall every lovelorn poet’s speaking about their better half’s eyes to form _some_ coherent thought to mark how lovely he thought Crowley’s, but was overwhelmed and unsuccessful and opted to just simply say what he was thinking.

“They’re very beautiful. Your eyes, that is. I’ve never seen any with that color before. Truly marvelous.”

Crowley stammered out more half-syllables, then a muttered _“thanks”_ and shoveled food into his mouth to prevent any more embarrassing noises.

Once they’d finished eating, the two moved to sit closer together on the loveseat, facing each other with their glasses in hand. Crowley cursed himself for how deeply the fact that their knees were touching was affecting him. Then he mentally cursed Aziraphale for being so lovely and making him _feel things_ again, dammit.

“Ah, yes. I have a few siblings, actually. All older.” He seemed to sober a bit at the discussion of his family, but continued on anyways, “Michael is the oldest, she’s working in politics last I heard. Then there’s Gabriel, who’s taken over the family law-firm. He’s, uh, certainly driven. Uriel followed him into law, and Sandalphon is an accountant. Everyone was always a bit disappointed that I went into animal science instead of becoming a lawyer, or going into business. They thought me too soft, which I suppose is true, choosing to care for animals instead of doing ‘something worthwhile’ with my time.”

“What? What the hell? Wh— why wouldn’t they think that worthwhile?”

Aziraphale chuckled without any humor. “I don’t think they ever really approved of anything I chose to do. They, er. Weren’t the kindest to me, growing up. Always mocked my habit of getting lost in books, or my fashion and uh— lifestyle. But really, it’s okay.”

Clearly incensed and with a loss of his usual brain-to-mouth filter, Crowley waved his glass around and said, “No, fuck that. You’re bloody perfect, angel. You’re wonderful with— with your tartan and your doctor’s coat and your compassion and love of animals. Fucking astonishing. Well-read and funny, too. With your kindness and snark and everything in-between, I don’t see how anyone couldn’t—couldn’t luh— like you. Brilliant man, you are. They don’t deserve you.” 

With all his gesturing during the rant, he’d unintentionally moved closer to Aziraphale, close enough to see the wetness in his eyes and flush on his cheeks. Aziraphale had, at some point, put a hand over his mouth, but slowly removed it to reveal a weak smile.

“ _Crowley_ … thank you. You have to know I think very highly of you as well.”

Aziraphale’s gaze dropped to Crowley’s lips. As if their bodies moved on their own accord, they leaned further in, close enough to share a trembling breath and yet still too far for their lips to meet. 

The moment was broken by a chirp from Aziraphale’s phone. He leaned away under the pretense of checking it. “Good lord, it’s getting late. I should— I should go.”

Crowley, too, leaned back and fumbled for his glasses. He stood quickly, “Uh, yeah. ‘S Late. Okay. I’ll walk you out, then?”

As they made their way to the lobby, Crowley was absolutely lost in thought. What _was_ that? Was Aziraphale about to kiss him? Should he have kissed Aziraphale? Could he do that now? He was shook out of that particular line of thought by the man in question gently grasping his hands.

Aziraphale looked at him with such a genuinely happy expression that it physically made Crowley ache. “Thank you. I had a lovely night.”

“Not a problem, thank _you_ , angel. You sure you don’t want me to drive you, or call a taxi or something?”

“I’ll be fine, dear boy.” Aziraphale laughed, “We didn’t drink that much.”

“Right then. Text me when you get home?”

“Will do,” Aziraphale nodded, then stepped out into the street.

Crowley watched him walk past the windows of his building, then took the lift back up to his flat, lost in thought the whole way. He got ready for bed in a daze, settling in his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

Ten minutes later his phone chirped and he nearly tripped stumbling across the room to get it, swearing the whole way.

_Aziraphale: Home safe. [heart emoji]_

Crowley smiled, then fired back a thumbs-up emoji. As he settled back down to hopefully catch some sleep, he mumbled to himself, “Alright. So. That was a thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: oh i'll get another update out during the mardi gras break  
> me: [doesn't do that]
> 
> OOPS my bad!!
> 
> no spoilers but the next chapter has been labeled 'fcking emergancy' in my outline for forever and i'm loathe to change it at this point bc i think that phrase is hilarious


	5. fcking emergancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told y'all i couldn't bear to change the placeholder title for this chapter so here we are.
> 
> the minor animal injury warning comes into play in this chapter (and this chapter only)

It had been kind of awkward the following days.

Crowley wasn’t sure where things sat, between the two of them.

They ate lunch as usual, chatted and snarked and drank as usual. But there was something else there now. Something Crowley couldn’t name and couldn’t bring himself to ask his angel about. A tension of sorts, drumming underneath every interaction.

It was driving him kind of crazy. Yet, unfortunately, his confusing relationship with Aziraphale wasn’t the worst of his current issues. For one, Newt had called out sick, which left Crowley to run the shop by himself the whole week. Which he  _ was _ perfectly capable of, he just didn’t want to do. It’s more fun with someone else, is all. And God, the people. Crowley wasn’t quite a people person, his customer service was lacking when it came to most clients.

Then, the mystery feud with the neighbors started amping up. Little oddities he’d been noticing like bumping into one (or both) of them in one of Crowley’s regular places soon became common occurrences. Receiving the stink eye or having one mean mug him was his new norm in the past few days.

But then it  _ amped up. _ Peaked. The wave crested. All that nonsense. Basically, it got  _ worse _ .

And it began with a simple question that morning as Crowley was stepping out of his flat.

Rather, as he was startled out of his flat by the white-haired cretin waiting right outside his door.

After calming his heart rate, Crowley waited for his neighbor to say something. He did not. So Crowley, not seeing any other way out of this creepy interaction greeted him, “G’morning Hastur.”

“‘Ello mate.”

“Any particular reason you’re hanging about my door?”

“Just had a question for you.”

“Right.”

“You haven’t seen Ligur’s ring around, have you?”

This was… not what he had expected. Granted, he wasn’t sure what exactly he  _ had _ expected from Hastur crowding him outside his flat. Crowley was barely familiar with his neighbors outside of their previous mild prank wars and the fact that those prank wars had apparently led to an obsession of him. Any accessories or anything past their basic defining characteristics was lost on him.

“Nah, can’t say I have. Sorry.” Crowley turned from him, locking his door in the process, and walked toward the lift.

Hastur didn’t move.

\--

It was a long, and moreover uneventful day at the shop. Usually, on days like this, Crowley would text Aziraphale and have hours-long conversations about nothing, but since their near-kiss at Crowley’s flat, he’d been trying to play it cool. Not seem super clingy, texting him twenty-four seven. Besides, Aziraphale apparently had an insanely busy day set at the clinic, as he’d notified Crowley early on in the morning that he’d be seeing back-to-back appointments all day and may not be able to talk until he closed up in the afternoon.

Which was fine. Crowley’s a grown man, he could entertain himself in other ways.

Such as throwing Freddie’s toys across the room over and over until eventually the cat tired of playing fetch and meandered off into the shop for a nap. He then resorted to Tetris clones on his phone. Then, when he tired of that, he scrolled through  _ Eden _ ’s social media. Again.

As his late afternoon customers trickled in and out, he lost himself in these distractions until finally it was late and empty enough to just close up.

“Look, I’m heading out. Don’t make a mess of the place, alright?” Freddie ignored him, choosing instead at this moment to clean himself. Crowley continued on, jabbing an accusing finger at the impassive cat, “No, I’m serious. I know you broke that pot the other night. When I closed up that night, it was on the table. When I came back in, it was on the floor. Who else would’ve done it? Newt?”

Since Freddie clearly was not taking this rigorous scolding to heart, Crowley decided to cut his losses and head home. Maybe he could catch some decent TV at this hour. Or just watch Netflix until he passed out. Maybe Aziraphale would text him once he got home as well. 

\--

From the moment he stepped off the lift on his floor, he felt off. Understandably so, as he moved toward his flat and noticed the door cracked, not shut and locked as he left it.

Lacking common sense, he pushed the door open wider and stepped in.

The first thing he noticed was that his front room was a goddamned mess.

The second was two voices arguing, floating through from Crawley’s room.

He walked in.

Toward the back of the room, Hastur was rifling through the desk, muttering something like  _ I know he has it, the slimy bastard _ to Ligur. Crowley couldn’t quite focus on the words, as in the center of the room, Ligur was holding Crawley, clearly both agitating her and getting quickly agitated with her.

He spoke, throat dry, “What are you doing?”

Both heads whipped around toward him, then to each other. In what felt like slow motion, Crowley watched as Hastur charged toward and past him, presumably back out the door. While Ligur, instead of placing Crawley back in her terrarium, dropped her unceremoniously on the floor before following his partner. She landed with a worrying noise and a hiss of pain.

Crowley was by her side in a second, concern clouding over any other thoughts such as  _ what the fuck were they doing here.  _ Concern quickly turned to panic as he realized the snake was steadily bleeding from a large gash in her side. He handled her carefully, both to avoid her becoming any more agitated than she already was  _ and _ to keep her from feeling any more pain than necessary.

Without any idea of how to help her, he attempted to call her vet’s office. He knew it was a long shot, knew her vet kept awful, weird-ass hours, but he tried anyway. All he received for his effort was an answering machine,  _ sorry we’re not here right now, ring us again later. _ “ _ Fuck! _ ”

He called the only other person with animal expertise he could think of.

Aziraphale, bless him, picked up the phone on the second ring: “Crowley?”

“Aziraphale, thank someone, I don’t know what to do, Crawley’s hurt and I can’t get in contact with her vet, they’re closed, and I just don’t— I don’t know what I should do!”

“What do you mean, hurt? What’s going on?”

“She’s got a gash on her side, I don’t know. The— my neighbors broke in, I have  _ no _ idea what the fuck they were doing but one of them had her and she— he just— dropped her and she got cut. I know you don’t do snakes but I thought maybe you’d know what to do or where I can take her— fuck, I know it’s late but—”

Crowley would have continued to trip over his words in his haste to find a solution, but Aziraphale interrupted to offer one, “Bring her to  _ Eden _ .”

“W— What?”

“Bring her to  _ Eden _ . We’ll take care of her.”

“Fuck, Aziraphale, I—” He huffed. “Okay. We’re on our way. Right.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you while you drive over?”

“Yes, please. God, thank you.”

True to his word, Aziraphale stayed on the phone the whole ride over. Crowley had no idea what they talked about, or how long the drive took, or— . He just knew that Aziraphale was there, a calming presence while he freaked out over trying to handle Crawley into her travel tank, and he was there when Crowley was mentally checking out in order to get the two of them to the clinic safely.

Crowley focused when he turned onto the end of the street the clinic sat on, “Look, I’m coming up on the clinic soon so I’m going to let you go. Talk in a mo’, alright?”

“Alright. I’ll be here.”

He clicked the phone off, wiggled in his seat to shove the phone in his back pocket as he barreled down the street to park next to  _ Eden _ . He basically threw open the car’s doors in his haste to get to Crawley, and offered the Bentley a mental apology and a promise to wax her soon.

\--

Aziraphale had actually been relaxing when he received Crowley’s call, petting Lizzie absentmindedly with one hand and holding a book with the other. Both of these quickly abandoned when Crowley explained the situation (much to Lizzie’s chagrin), and as he understood more and more of what was going on, the quicker he dressed himself for an emergency and made his way out of his flat and down the block to the clinic to prepare.

While keeping Crowley on speaker, he fired off a text to Anathema and Tray telling them that he may need their assistance at the clinic as soon as possible.

Crowley eventually let him go as he approached the clinic, and Aziraphale took this moment to call upon an old friend, hoping desperately that she’d pick up and he could get some guidance for whatever he was about to do.

\--

Even though it was past Eden’s usual open hours, Tracy was standing at the door to wave Crowley in and as he stumbled past her with Crawley’s bulky travel tank in his arms she murmured comforting words to him, though in his current state they seemed more nonsensical than anything else. She locked the front door behind him, then bustled ahead to lead him down the long hallway by the reception, past all the exam rooms, and through a door at the very end that Crowley had never been in before. The back room was very spacious, kennels sparsely filled with overnight patients lined one wall while the middle of the room seemed to lend focus to two examination counters, with a host of medical attachments Crowley couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of. The furthest wall seemed to stock various medical supplies and this is where Anathema was currently crouched and rifling through a large rectangular container. Again, when Tracy called out and Anathema answered, it all seemed slightly garbled to Crowley, who followed their lead out of the room.

His head swam with panic, but when they stopped in front of a glass doorway with letters stating ‘Surgical Suite’ overhead, everything returned to focus when Aziraphale came into view. Gone was his neatly pressed clothes, now replaced with the same light blue scrubs Anathema wore, complete with a surgical gown, mask, and cap. He fluttered around a surgical table with tools methodically arranged upon it, moving tools and adjusting chambers on a large glass cage lying on an adjacent table. On a counter against the wall lie his phone, which had a woman’s voice occasionally drifting out of it. Anathema opened the door, gesturing for Crowley and his charge to follow while Tracy stayed behind.

Once the two (three if Crawley is included) stepped into the room proper, Aziraphale ceased his restless pacing and waved them over.

Even though half the man’s face was covered with surgical wear, the anxious energy was evident through his speech alone, “Crowley! I am  _ so _ sorry this happened, we’re going to get your dear girl all fixed up soon enough though. I’ve no specialty in snakes, as you know, but I have some experience with suturing other small reptiles and my former colleague, Frances, has even more than I. She’s going to supervise via telephone.”

“Hello, Crowley!” The woman— Frances— sounded cheery through the phone, “I’ve heard a lot about you! Wish we could have spoken under better circumstances. Anywho, I’m extremely confident in Fell’s ability, but I’ll be here for some extra guidance.”

“I— thank you, both. So much.” He was at a loss for words. Aziraphale nodded, then muted the phone.

The vet seemed to catch his restlessness and guided him toward the large glass container on the other side of the surgical suite. He nodded to Anathema, who stepped out of the room momentarily. Crowley set Crawley’s tank gently by the glass contraption, then stuck his hands in his pockets to prevent any nervous wandering.

“While Anathema suits up, I’m going to give you a quick idea of what we’re going to do to help Crawley, alright?” Crowley nodded dumbly. “Very well. First, this chamber here is for gaseous anaesthesia. I wouldn’t feel completely confident trying to inject her, especially so since she’s got a laceration, so this is the best bet for her comfort. Once she’s out, we’re going to clean the wound, evaluate it, and if it’s not too deep we’ll use a surgical glue to close it. If it’s on the deeper side, we’ll use reptile-safe sutures and stitch her up. Sounds good?” Another silent nod. “Alright. Once she’s out of surgery, we’ll keep her somewhere warm and quiet and monitor her fluids. I think she should be good to go home when she’s up and stable. We’ll send some antibiotics with you as well. I’ll give you a formal discharge when I’m able to see the depth of her injury.”

“Do whatever you need to,” Crowley croaked, then cleared his throat, “I trust you.”

Aziraphale’s brows knitted together and he appeared to want to respond, but at that moment Anathema stepped back into the room in full surgical wear and whatever his response was stopped in his throat. As Anathema swept into the room, hair pulled back into cap, mask and gloves firmly on, Tracy hovered by the suite’s doorway and waved Crowley over. He took a last glance at the two, watching as Aziraphale unmuted his phone and pulled gloves on, then followed the older woman out of the door.

“Let’s get some tea into you, dearie.”

Crowley was not exactly a fan of tea, but he got the feeling that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Lead the way.”

\--

Aziraphale, largely, did not feel great about his current task. On one hand, he cared deeply for Crowley and wanted to do anything in his power to fix every bit of distress the florist felt. But on the other, as Anathema gently handled the snake into the anaesthesia chamber, he felt like he was going to faint or have a panic attack. Or possibly both. But he told Crowley he could do it, and the man told  _ him _ that he  _ trusted him _ . So he was helping this snake, no matter what.

Anathema brought him out of his thoughts, “You alright?”

He grimaced in response. “I will be once this is over.”

From his phone, Frances chirped, “Aw, you’ve got this, Fell. I know you can do it. Won’t even need me, I bet!”

Aziraphale gritted his teeth. “I wouldn’t say that.”

They got to work.

\--

Crowley had settled into a comfortable position in the plush armchair behind Aziraphale’s desk. Tracy had taken up one of the slightly-less extravagantly comfy seats in front of him, and the two had been chatting over tea ever since he’d been pulled from the surgical ward. Well. She had mostly been chatting, while accepting his occasional gruff response as permission to continue on with her rambling stories. He appreciated that she didn’t expect him to really contribute to the conversation and she was content to talk and distract him for the length of this potentially-hours-long procedure.

As Tracy spoke at length about her beau and his eccentricities, Crowley’s thoughts were drifting more to his beau. Well, not quite  _ his _ beau. His angel? His… vet? Regardless of whatever label he should or shouldn’t smack onto Aziraphale, the man was distracting him. In his moment of need, Aziraphale had offered to work past his own literal greatest fear to reach out and help him. What a momentous thing. Possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever done for Crowley.

He should ask Aziraphale out, for real, after this.

And give Crawley one thousand mice as treats.

And reinforce his apartment door.

Oh God, he’s going to have to file a police report now, huh.

\--

Once Crawley had been knocked out and layed on the examination table, all hope of a simple glue suture went out the window. Aziraphale, emboldened by the nitrile gloves acting as a barrier between him and the snake, was able to prod and find that the laceration was  _ just _ too deep for the glue to safely close it. So, sutures required and the length of time he’d have to spend treating the reptile steadily increased.

As Anathema prepped the wound with antiseptic and Frances advised on the pattern of sutures, Aziraphale swallowed his rising panic and moved with swiftness to gather his materials. He concentrated on the sound of the other vet’s voice, on Anathema’s calmness, on the forceps in his hand, on every reptile-centric bit of knowledge he’d gained in veterinary school.

“...so that the sutures aren’t pulled out as she moves.”

“Right,” He snapped back to the conversation with a steadiness that he did not feel. “Evereting pattern. Can do. We’re going to start the suturing now, then.”

\--

“Sounds to me like it’s breaking and entering at least, and they harmed your poor old snake.”

“Yeah, so like, definitely getting evicted, right?”

“I would hope so.”

Once Crowley had brought up the whole _ ‘so how do I file a police report because I’ve never exactly been on the correct side of the law’ _ thing, Tracy wanted a recounting of everything that’d happened between him and Ligur and Hastur, which he’d gladly given her, sparing no details. He’d been bouncing between texting his landlord about the  _ incident _ to telling her exactly why his two neighbors were just complete shitbags. It was kind of relaxing to be able to relate all the insanity occurring over the past few weeks and have someone else agree that you weren’t crazy. Somewhere along the grand storytelling, he’d taken off his glasses and set them on Aziraphale’s desk.

Tracy had a calming way about her and it was really getting to him now.

“Anyway, so I called Aziraphale and uh, he told me to come here. And here we are.”

Tracy took a sip of her tea. “Mm. I’m glad you have each other, then.”

A note of panic rose in Crowley’s chest. “Uh, yeah. I’m, er. Really glad I have him too. Not just for snake emergencies, and all. Just. In general. Wouldn’t know where I’d be without him. I mean— he’s great.”

They sat in silence for a moment, as Tracy pointedly drank her tea and Crowley fumbled to get his Aziraphale-related thoughts together. She caught his eye and raised her eyebrows.

The next words he blurted out without meaning to, “Do you think I should ask him out?”

She seemed to be expecting that question. “Yes. I can’t believe you haven’t yet. You’re all he talks about, now. He’s mad for you.”

“Oh. Cool. Yep. Mad for me?”

“Absolutely, love.”

“Wow. Alright. Yeah, okay. Okay. Perfect.”

Honestly, how was he supposed to keep up with a conversation after she dropped that on him?

\--

The suturing was a long and careful process.

By the time Crawley’s gash was all closed up and liquid bandage spray administered, Aziraphale felt lightheaded and exhilarated all at once. Anathema had opted to quickly clean the travel tank so that when they had finished, Crawley could be placed back inside to relax. As the two removed their surgical wear, Frances signed off for the night with a promise that she’d answer any further questions if needed and Aziraphale thanked her profusely for the support.

This left just the two of them.

“I think that this calls for at least a high five but definitely some celebratory drinks at the very  _ least _ ,” said Anathema, very matter-of-factly.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, though a smile was on his face. “Let’s just get Miss Crawley into an exam room so she has somewhere to rest. I’m going to update Crowley.”

Anathema gave him a mock salute, “Aye aye, Captain.” She then gently lifted the travel tank and made her way out of the surgical suite.

Aziraphale sighed, trying to rid himself of the prickling nerves that plagued him throughout this whole adventure, then set out to find where Tracy had taken Crowley to.

\--

Turns out Tracy was both an excellent conversationalist and really great at offering romantic advice. She was in the midst of offering recommendations for various picnic locations when a knock on the office’s door drew them out of the conversation. Crowley stood up to answer the door initially, but she waved him off and practically lunged to answer it before he could even move from behind the desk.

At the door was Aziraphale, sans surgical gown, white-blond curls now free from the cap, face less taut than when he was staring down the python. He smiled at Tracy, who patted his arm and pushed past him out the door, but not before giving a sly thumbs up to Crowley, who studiously did not respond.

Aziraphale turned from staring back at her bemusedly to face Crowley and offered him a million dollar smile. “I come bearing good news.” He entered the room fully at the same time that Crowley finally stumbled toward him.

“Good news— thank God. You’re a genuine angel. How is she?”

“She’s doing well. We were able to stitch her up without issue. She should be fine to go home tonight. We’ll send some antibiotics with you, of course, and I’ll get Anathema to type up actual discharge instructions, but she should be back to her old self in no time at all.” He paused, “And you’ll be very proud of me. I even gave her a pet. While she was under anaesthesia and with gloves on, of course, but still! I pet her.” The last sentence was followed by an excited full-body wiggle, for emphasis.

Crowley laughed, then blurted, “You are so cute.” And then immediately wanted to brain himself on the nearest surface.

He was  _ really _ going to need to invest in training himself to have a better brain-to-mouth filter, now he’s been too forward and if he keeps this up Aziraphale isn’t going to—

“Am I?” Aziraphale interrupted that train of thought with his question, spoken innocently but with a flush across his cheeks and the corners of his mouth upturned. Apparently he’d stepped ever closer while Crowley’s thought process derailed.

With a sudden confidence mostly driven by Tracy’s earlier advice, Crowley smirked, “Yep,” He popped the  _ p _ , then continued in a slow drawl, “Completely irresistible. Driving me barmy, you are.”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to laugh, he turned his face away in an attempt to hide it, then faced Crowley again with rosy cheeks and a shy smile. “I should very much like to kiss you, if that’s amenable.”

There wasn’t a clever quip in the world that Crowley could possibly respond to that with, so he elected to just go with a simple: “Please.”

Aziraphale closed the distance between them, bringing his hand up to cup Crowley’s cheek as their lips met. They kissed, slow and sweet, and likely for longer than was proper when one was standing in an office, presumably with coworkers/friends hovering around outside. For once, Crowley was grateful he wasn’t wearing his glasses, being able to touch and feel and see his angel without any barriers was breathtaking.

Aziraphale pulled away first, attempting to ask a question before Crowley followed his movement and kissed him again. His second attempt was more successful, breaking away to ask, “Do you want to bring Crawley home, then?”

Crowley gave him a dopey smile. “Yeah! Yeah. I should probably do that?”

Aziraphale laughed, “You probably should. I can help, if you’d like. Getting her all settled and whatnot. I can’t offer any legal advice for the whole break-and-enter, but I  _ can _ offer pet advice.”

“Y’know, I’d love that. Maybe you can run me through the discharge instructions again, my good doctor.” The last bit was emphasised with a waggle of the eyebrows, and Aziraphale swatted his arm.

Aziraphale held out his hand, which Crowley took with a sense of wonderment, and led him to the warm exam room Crawley had been resting in. Anathema had, very helpfully, left the printed discharge instructions for the snake as well as her medications in the room. A sticky note with a crude emoji was stuck to the discharge papers. Aziraphale once again broke apart from Crowley to guide him through the various instructions and signs of healing to look for in the snake. Crowley, meanwhile, was very thankful that these were also written, because right now he was far too distracted to recall anything the vet was saying to him.

He interrupted the other man’s explanation of Crawley’s antibiotics. “Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to go on a date? You and me, could drive out somewhere. Have a picnic. Or stay in. Or just go to the park, feed some ducks, anything really, I—”

“Yes,” Aziraphale was doing a terrible job of holding back his good-natured laughter at Crowley’s rambling so he opted to interrupt it, “I would like nothing more than to go on a date with you, Crowley.”

“Great. Wonderful. A date, for sure.” He smiled openly now, “I’m going to bring you so many flowers. So many plants. You’ll be sick of them. You’ll beg me to quit the nursery industry.”

Aziraphale laughed in earnest now, “My dear, I could never! A gift from you is precious. And your store! Where would Freddie live if not among the greenery?”

  
They chatted and bickered until it was only appropriate to bid each other goodnight (with a less-than chaste kiss (that Tracy and Anathema both witnessed (which guaranteed at  _ least _ a week of gentle mockery for dear Aziraphale))), and Crowley left  _ Eden Animal Hospital _ with a healing snake, a happy heart, and a spring in his step.

And a police report to file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this one took a while! sorry i took literally ten years writing this one fellas.
> 
> reptile friendly sutures = polyglycolide sutures!
> 
> anyways, we're in the end-game now boys. i have a gomens sideblog where you can yell at me over @ aziraphalesbendandsnap


	6. happily ever after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. some dr who cameos due to mine and gecko's fics crossing over whoops

It’d be simplifying things to say the rest of Crowley’s days passed in a blissful daze. There were still problems, between the awkward stages of a new relationship to the whole _‘my neighbors broke into my flat for some fucking reason and hurt my snake, which deeply upset me’_ thing.

But, overall, things did look up tremendously.

Crawley healed like a champ. She preened under the near constant attention that being injured allowed her, and was, according to Aziraphale, one of the easier patients to tend to after her minor surgery. Of course, Aziraphale could say that because his tending to her was more like directing Crowley on how to make sure she was comfortable and healing while watching from the doorway of her room.

_Eden_ kept on as it was, with a few notable exceptions. The resident veterinarian kept up his odd schedule, continuing to work strange hours with long lunch breaks spent at a nearby floral shop. The clinic itself was now more often than not covered in (pet-friendly) floral arrangements and decked out in lovely greenery. Newt and Anathema continued their fast friendship, initially borne of the two scheming at a pub, now spurred on by Newt’s weekly delivery of whatever flora Crowley instructed him to bring by. Tracy had responded to the revelation of yet another budding _Once and Floral/Eden Animal Hospital_ relationship by insisting everyone join her for a bi-monthly dinner party for the whole crew. This also included the clinic’s newest hire, Jack, a handsome part-time technician who looked more like a model than any sort of vet tech but nonetheless did a perfectly agreeable job. He was a tad flirtatious and more than a bit strange, but that just meant that he and the rest of the clinic got on like a house on fire.

Then, there was the matter of Crowley’s angel. After that long night dealing with Crawley’s injury and their own _emotionfest_ , the two had a very long talk (interspersed with moments where they decidedly _weren’t_ talking) about _feelings_ and their _relationship_ and even more goo-ey things that put butterflies in Crowley’s stomach. Their daily lunch/dinner dates turned to _actual_ dates. Aziraphale invited Crowley over and he got to meet Lizzie, who took an immediate liking to him (whether or not he would impress Aziraphale’s dog was a huge source of anxiety for Crowley in the days leading up to that date). Highlight of Crowley’s life, really. And Crowley had another date with Aziraphale tonight. They were going to watch _movies_ together. No doubt something sickeningly adorable. _And_ Aziraphale was _cooking_ for him. The domesticity of it all made him feel like he was going into heart failure.

Ligur and Hastur, well. They were, eventually, caught after their little adventure in Crowley’s flat, and subsequently arrested. As well as, to Crowley’s immense pleasure, evicted. Community service was the decided punishment for the two of them. Sure, Crowley would have liked something heftier for their breaking and entering and snake-attacking, but he was just happy that he didn’t have to live next to them anymore. He was never _quite_ sure what the hell they were looking for, or why they’d think he’d have it in his home to begin with, but the outcome wasn’t without its merits. For one, it helped boost his relationship with Aziraphale to a new level. Without some intervention, who knows how long the two of them would have danced around each other? Maybe he should send Hastur and Ligur a _‘thanks for getting me laid’_ cake. _You might have been the worst neighbors,_ he thought while aimlessly prowling his nursery, _but you were decent wingmen._

Agh, Crowley was getting lost in his thoughts again. A dangerous activity while manning the storefront. Don’t want to get caught unawares by, god-forbid, a _customer._ He almost regretted sending Newt home early, but work was slow and Crowley had felt generous, bidding him adieu with a _“Nah, I’ll be fine closing tonight, but make sure your ass is here early tomorrow to unpack those deliveries, you hear?”_

Fortunately for him, the only customer that deigned to interrupt his daydreams was his mysterious blue-trousers clad, braces-wearing regular. Her visits had gotten more consistent, coming in roughly the same time, same day every other week, to the point where she was ordering more specific arrangements and flowers ahead of time (which Crowley deeply appreciated, though he was insanely curious about where she could possibly keep all of these plants with varying sunlight and soil needs).

(He still hadn’t remembered her name, though he definitely asked last time she was in buying zinnias. It was maybe… Jane? Or… Rose? No, she’s always buying roses, that wasn’t it. She had a title, he knew that, something in the medical field? He can’t ask again without looking like a complete jerk, could he?)

“Here to pick up those lewisias, right?”

The blonde woman (Smith?) nodded and grinned, “Right on. Needed something a little more positive in my garden. Celebrating new beginnings and all that.”

“Sounds lovely.” Crowley was horrified to find that he _wasn’t_ dripping with sarcasm for once, and _did_ find the concept of celebrating new beginnings to be kind of… charming.

Good thing he had more pots of lewisias in the back.

  
  
  


On second thought, maybe this was _too_ cheesy. Maybe showing up to your boyfriend’s place with a pot full of flowers symbolizing how excited you are to be together was too much. He couldn’t rightly turn around now, though, at Aziraphale’s doorstep. He came too far. Plus if he went back to the shop now, Freddie would most certainly attack him for interrupting his nightly routine. So instead he braced himself and knocked on the door with one hand while clutching the pot in his other.

Aziraphale’s beaming smile assuaged any doubts he might have had prior to this very moment.

He was greeted with a simple, “ _Crowley_!” (He always did that now, said Crowley’s name like it was reverent, like he was something to be cherished, and how was he even supposed to cope with that?), then stepped aside to let him in. “What have you got there?”

“Hiya, angel. Brought these. For you. Us. Kind of.” Crowley shoved the pot forward as an explanation while he toed off his shoes in the entryway.

Aziraphale cooed and gently took the flowers. “How do you mean? What are they?”

“Uh, they’re called lewisia. S’posed to symbolize ‘new beginnings’ and all that. Thought it’d be nice. Y’know, for us, a new beginning together and all that.” He flushed and started full-on rambling, “They’re full sun, so you could just stick them in a window and they’d be happy. And they’re pretty low maintenance, don’t need much water or anything. I mean, it’s alright if you’re tired of flowers though, I get it. I can—”

Aziraphale, thankfully, was used to having to interrupt Crowley’s self-conscious rants at this point and shushed him. “I adore them,” he said, looking back at Crowley with a grin.

“You do?” With his anxiety slightly quelled, Crowley relaxed minutely and smiled back.

“They’re only the sweetest thing anyone has gifted me, my dear. I love them! Could you perhaps set the table while I decide where to put them?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure thing, angel.” He followed Aziraphale to the kitchen, patting Lizzie on the head when he passed her by.

He set about placing plates and glassware down adjacent to each other at Aziraphale’s small dining table while the man in question bustled off with his new flora in search of that perfect spot. He returned quickly after depositing it by his favorite reading window (it has just the right amount of sun to read by without getting blinded throughout the day) and began to pile their plates with food and pour a healthy dose of wine into their glasses, all the while laughing at Crowley’s recounting of his problem remembering his regular’s name.

( _“I’m serious, I can’t for the life of me remember what her name is and I know I’ve already asked before, so I’d definitely be an arsehole for asking again. She’s going to think ‘ah this guys a real prat, been coming here for so long now and he can’t even be bothered to remember my name.’”_

_“Let me know the next time she stops by and I’ll pop in for a chat and ask her for you.”_

_“You absolute angel.”_ )

Once they were seated, Aziraphale raised his wine glass, smiling so genuinely that Crowley wished he could stop time simply to admire him, “Shall we toast then? To new beginnings?”

Crowley raised his glass, a dopey smile on his face. What else could he do but bask in this moment?

_Hopefully,_ he thought, _have many more after this._

“To new beginnings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S ALL, FOLKS!!
> 
> i'm sorry the huge delay on such a tiny chapter, but with everything going on w/ this pandemic i haven't had the time to write or respond to any comments but we're here now!!
> 
> thanks for coming with me on this self-indulgent vet au journey! to everyone who left kudos or comments, thank you so much! it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun without y'all :)
> 
> i hope you're all staying safe out there!
> 
> ps: as a treat, here's the doodle that spawned this whole au


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